


You'll Break Your Back Carrying That Weight

by Radenierafire



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, Post the Battle of Nilfgard, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia is tired, Yennefer's tags are all about other people and I'm not here for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radenierafire/pseuds/Radenierafire
Summary: This one was based on a conversation I had with a mutual on my main account. (They asked not to be tagged, but I definitely wanted to write it!) Basically the prompt was: “I just really wanna see something Tissaia and Yennefer bc no one writes them? I’d love to see like disheveled Tissaia being taken care of by Yen? Maybe something after the finale?”
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778863
Comments: 19
Kudos: 109
Collections: TheWitcher





	You'll Break Your Back Carrying That Weight

**Author's Note:**

> I am still working on the characters for Yen and Tissaia? Bc I love them both, but realized that Idk how to write them? That being said, I hope I did them justice here. (Tissaia is entirely based on the show, Yen is a bit of a mix between game and show Yen.)

It hurt to breathe. Even now, after everything, in this shithole tavern in some shithole town. It had been a few days since Tissaia had witnessed the most powerful display of magic she’d seen in her very long life. A few days since the battle had been won by Yennefer’s sheer will. Since then, Tissaia had felt a lot of things, but the only feeling she could really narrow down enough to label was the fact that it hurt to breathe. 

She’d come to that conclusion sitting here, slightly hunched over, drinking some of the most disgusting ale she’d ever purchased. She realized that every drink she took had to make it over the lump in her throat, and every breath she took had to fight to fill her lungs. She was sitting at this bar, knowing that she really shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t be there when she was struggling so greatly to breathe, and honestly, she probably shouldn’t be here at all. This tavern she’d found. It was rather disgusting. The whole place. It was beneath her.

She was one of the most powerful mages to ever walk this world, and they’d served her drink in a disgusting tankard. 

She was the foundation that kept Aretuza running, and the servers here could barely keep up with the few people that had made it out to drink and eat.

She was the sorceress that kept Stregobor in line, and as the tension in the air threatened a bar fight at any moment she sat there silently. Uncaring of whether or not these men cut each other’s throats simply because they were angry with the world.

Tissaia had raised the next generation of the most powerful women in the world.

And she was sat in a run down tavern.

She was sat there, realizing that she was tired and in pain, after a battle in which she fought, but where she was all but useless.

It fucking hurt to breathe. 

“Lift your arms over your head.” Came a voice from behind her. The voice was soft and careful which was quite unusual considering it’s owner. 

Tissaia arched her brow and glanced over her shoulder at Yennefer. “You should be resting.” She criticized, looking back down to the tankard of shitty ale in front of her. If something happened and they needed Yennefer again, it would do no good for her to still be exhausted. The mage had only had a few days rest. 

In that moment, Tissaia found herself praying to the gods she had long since stopped believing in. She prayed that nothing that happened for the next couple of days would require Yennefer’s assistance. She prayed that Yennefer could simply . . . recover. She prayed that the brunt of this war was dealt with, and that never again would Yennefer have to expel so much chaos. She prayed that it was all worth it in the end, and that they’d have peace.

Although she was praying, she was far from hopeful.

Yennefer looked similarly skeptical. “Rest? So that I can be asleep when the next fight starts? I hardly think that is sensible.” She said and took the seat that remained vacant to Tissaia’s side. The tavern was still nearly empty, save for a few stragglers and the permanent fixtures that regular drunks made, but even the few brave enough to go out in this mess would not risk sitting next to such a powerful woman. Especially not when she was clearly quite pissed off. 

A harsh laugh punched itself from Tissaia’s throat and she shook her head, “You’ve never been one for practicality or logic, I don’t see why you’d start now.” She said and then took a difficult breath. 

Though Tissaia had never shied away from scoffing at Yennefer, or belittling her ignorance, it was rather unusual for her to be so blunt about it. Her dismissals were often subtle and sharp. Rarely was she so callous. Never had she simply laughed in Yennefer’s face. It was a worrying sign, and though Yennefer did not take it personally, she was certainly taken aback by the expressive nature of the laugh. 

Yennefer watched Tissaia carefully and then rolled her eyes. For a moment they fell back into those roles they’d assumed so long ago. Student and teacher. Child and adult. As Yennefer rebelled against the obtuse condescending tone, with a huff and a slight pout. Then, she shifted and placed a hand against Tissaia’s back, fixing her posture. She gently nudged Tissaia’s elbows with her free hand, while the other one stayed firmly on Tissaia’s back. “Lift your arms over your head.” She repeated sternly. 

And it seemed as though their roles had reversed themselves, as Tissaia rolled her eyes a bit like the petulant child. It served as stark contrast to the stern look of determination on Yennefer’s face. “Why, girl? So, I can look like a fool?” She wondered allowed. Surely, Yennefer realized it was ridiculous to ask Tissaia to stretch so obnoxiously in the middle of this tavern. With so many people around who could take a swing at her in such an exposing position.

“So you can breathe.” Yennefer said simply.

Tissaia’s eyes shot to the side, looking at Yennefer in surprise, unsure of how Yennefer knew that it was difficult to get air into her lung. Even more uncertain of why Yennefer cared. The older woman exhaled in slight defeat, slouching some. The unmoving hand on her back pushed back to sitting up straight. It was a silent promise of protection, and Tissaia acquiesced. She lifted her arms slowly and folded them over her head. It pushed her ribs open, allowing more space for her lungs. Truthfully, she immediately felt her breathing come easier, though she’d hardly admit that. She wrapped her hands over her own elbows and kept the position even as she felt Yennefer stand and shift behind her. 

“What are you doing?” Tissaia asked, moving to drop her arms. 

Yennefer caught them and kept them where they were. “You inhaled a lot of smoke. It will be hard to breathe for a while as your body defends itself from that grit. But you also put an immense strain on yourself. I imagine you are sore. I was going to help get rid of that ache, deep in your back.” She explained, running a hand down Tissaia’s spine. The older woman certainly did not shudder or anything of the like at such a light and promising touch. Yennefer’s hand gently wrapped around Tissaia’s waist and she regarded Tissaia carefully. 

Despite the appeal of such relief, Tissaia did pull her arms free and lower them. She shifted and turned in her chair to face Yennefer, wrapping the arm at her waist even further around her. Tissaia’s eyes were suspicious and tired as she looked over Yennefer in an attempt to place her motive. She didn’t know what Yennefer’s intent was. The younger woman was never so soft. She was strong and harsh and made of sharp edges, even her love came in bursts of respect and expectation rather than gentle offers of affection. 

Or at least, that was what Tissaia had always received, and she had some hope that despite their strife there was love at the basis of their relationship. Whatever kind of relationship they had.

Yennefer seemed almost- sympathetic to the obvious confusion and disbelief on Tissaia’s face. She gently raised her hands, removing the one wrapped around Tissaia, “Perhaps not in such a public place. My apologies,” She said. She smiled just barely at the expression on Tissaia’s face at the apologies. “Come with me? Back to my room at the inn . . . Let me help.”

Tissaia scoffed, “You want to help me.”

It was a slight blow, and Yennefer wasn’t thrilled with such distrust after everything they’d gone through recently. “It wouldn’t be the first time you needed my help.” Yennefer reminded curtly, seeming a bit agitated at Tissaia’s disposition. 

“No. I suppose not.” Tissaia admitted, her eyes dropping just slightly. “Truthfully, I do ache. And I would not mind . . . help.” She said slowly, taking another deep breath. It was an admission that Yennefer hadn’t anticipated, and the slight smile tugged its place back onto her face. 

“Good.” She hummed quietly. 

Tissaia paid for her drinks and stood with Yennefer. She gestured for Yennefer to lead the way back to their tavern. Yennefer did as silently instructed, and they walked quietly. Only a few comments on the plans for the upcoming days were passed, mostly discussion of when the remaining sorcerers and sorceresses were leaving. They made it to their inn, and Tissaia followed Yennefer up to her room.

They returned to their quiet as they entered the room. Yennefer waved her hand, sending a few things away into the closet and then walking over to the small vanity. Tissaia shut the door behind them and locked it before glancing back over to Yennefer. She pulled a few scented oils from the top and gestured to the bed. “Lay down on your stomach . . . It may help for your back to be exposed, however you find it easiest to manage.” She explained.

Tissaia paused and glanced over at Yennefer’s back briefly. She carefully unlaced the front of her dress and slipped her arms out from it. She let the top of her dress fall over her hips, and carefully she climbed into the bed. There, she laid out, pillowing her head on her arms which were folded beneath her. She took a deep breath and let her eyes close.

Yennefer turned and walked over to the bed, her eyes subconsciously drifting over the sorceress before her. Yennefer believed that there had always been a tension between them that neither of them knew how to, or was willing to admit to. It had always reared its head in a way that made Yennefer believe that it might be jealousy, or hatred even . . . though in her darker moments she’d wondered if it had ever been love, or perhaps lust.

Though her own thoughts were rather heavy, Yenefer couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Tissaia so dishevelled. She wasn’t sure earlier, when hearing the harsh and blatant emotion in Tissaia’s tone. She knew it, now that she was watching the woman so easily give over the power in the room to someone else.

Tissaia felt the bed dip and to her surprise, Yennefer straddled the tops of her thighs. It was a strangely intimate position, and it felt irregular. However, it wasn’t altogether unpleasant and there was a strange comfort to having Yennefer so close to her. 

They sat in silence as Yennefer poured a bit of oil into her hand. She started to massage the fragrance into the soft skin beneath her hands. The silence is not inherently uncomfortable, but there is an urge to speak that Yennefer tries to quell. Despite herself, Yennefer could not remain quiet. “There’s. . .” She started and cleared her throat. “There is this ache- this deep hurt, that hides just beneath my skin. In my neck . . . my back.” She explained. She knew that Tissaia was listening, but the older woman made no movement to show that she was paying attention. Yennefer continued anyway. “The pain from my- disfigurement never went away. Truthfully, after my transformation . . . it got worse.” She admitted.

Tissaia’s vulnerability reared itself as outbursts, displays of emotions that she could usually keep to herself. The inability to hide the chaos that simmered so close to the surface of her skin. But the manner in which Yennefer showed that her heart was unfortified was by simply being honest. She so rarely liked anyone enough to share herself with them, and most definitely did not trust easily. Yet, as they sat here, she spoke of a trial she faced that she’d never admitted to another person. Even in her time with Geralt, she did not tell him of her hunched back, unsettled jaw, or other ailments.

Thoughts of Geralt intruded on this soft moment like a manticore in a shop of precious antiques. Unwelcome and threatening. Yennefer carefully pushed them out and shut the door behind them. 

She continued just as softly, “Some days it feels like there are hooks in my shoulders, pulling them back into a posture so unnatural and uncomfortable that I want to scream . . .” Carefully, Yennefer’s fingers traced along Tissaia’s ribcage. She gently flattened her palms against Tissaia’s shoulder blades. “I only mean to say that: When it comes to aches and pain, I’ve had to learn quite well how best to manage them. You know how to suppress your emotions, but . . . I suppose I am offering you help in feeling them.” She said.

Throughout the entire admission, Yennefer saw no movement or acknowledgement from the woman beneath her. The only thing that told her she was being listened to was the way the energy focused in the room. Like it was vacuumed from every crevice and being held in Tissaia’s chest. Yennefer knew that that much focus had to be for a reason. She knew that some silent test was happening in Tissaia’s mind, and hoped only that her honesty would help her pass it. Perhaps if whatever Tissaia was looking for was or wasn’t there, Tissaia would be able to find the peace she needed to relax and allow herself this kindness.

What Tissaia was looking for was the lie. She’d never heard such open statements from her charge, and the bitter part of her was still expecting for some angle to reveal itself. She found herself waiting for Yennefer to reveal an ulterior motive . . . and yet? Throughout the entire admission, Tissaia saw no trace of Yennefer’s silver tongue, spinning charm and manipulation around her victims. This was by far a reflection of that young woman Tissaia found so long ago. So full of anger, yes, but fuller still of sorrow and heart. Begging for the opportunity to share it with someone. 

Melitele, did Tissaia want to be that person. 

She slowly reached back and caught one of Yennefer’s wrists. She gently pulled it, enough for Yennefer to understand and sit up some. It gave Tissaia the space to roll over and push herself to sitting as well. She backed up to lean against the headboard and Yennefer went to move out of the way. Instead, Tissaia caught Yennefer’s hip and pulled her closer. With Yennefer sat in her lap, Tissaia reached up and gently caressed Yennefer’s jaw. “You were supposed to be my student.” She said quietly. “Nothing more.” It came out as almost a laugh, but definitely a tired one. “And instead, you took what I taught you and used it to turn yourself into a mage so beautiful, powerful, and smart than I could ever have hoped to turn you into.” Tissaia said. 

Yennefer’s heart beat slightly faster than usual and she wasn’t certain where to put her hands. Despite herself, her eyes fell, swooping over Tissaia’s bare chest. She gently lifted her hands to hold either side of Tissaia’s neck, thumbs brushing back and forth on either side. “Saia-”

“You have always been beautiful.” Tissaia said, voice barely above a whisper. “You have always been powerful.” Her eyes dipped to Yennefer’s lips. “And you have always been smart.” She said. “If those traits were not in you from the very beginning, you would not have prevailed on the battlefield as you have. And these last days, I have been unable to forgive myself for ever having thought- that I was capable of- . . .” She fought to find the right words. “For ever trying to restrain you. For failing to tell you so long ago that you are art, Yennefer. The most stunning masterpiece ever made and you always have been.” She said. “Perhaps this is far more forward than I am used to being, and I hope that you do not scoff at me for being a soft old woman trying to make the most of what time we have left . . . but during that fight- when I thought I might die, when I thought you might die- I wanted nothing more than to tell you how  _ good _ you were. And apologize for not having said it sooner.” She whispered.

Yennefer stared carefully into Tissaia’s eyes, looking for something- any sign that this was ingenuine. That this was a rant spurred on by fear-instilled madness. 

Tissaia stared right back to show that it wasn’t. 

Without a second thought, Yennefer pulled Tissaia into a soft kiss, holding onto her tightly.

It was suddenly far easier to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta bc I'm lame? So any mistakes are my own.  
> Go check out The Amazing Devil. Please? They quite literally compose musical masterpieces.


End file.
